


Grand Theft Kylo

by Murasaki99



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Fluffy sorta, Gen, Junior Challenge, Juniors vs. Seniors, Kylo Ren is scary, Naval Traditions, The crazy things students do, a little violence, dumb stuff, stick your hand in the tiger's mouth I dare you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-06 03:30:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6736303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murasaki99/pseuds/Murasaki99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Junior Challenge is a time-honored tradition of the star-faring naval fleets.  The Seniors leave the Junior midshipmen a set of tasks to be completed within a set span of time.  This year's class of juniors aboard the <i>Finalizer</i> have their work cut out for them as the challenge involves stealing from the ship's resident lord of the knights of Ren. </p><p>Yes, it's Grand Theft Auto meets Tomb Raider with dark Jedi, sneak thieves, cymbals, bagpipes, and mayhem.  Alcohol may have been involved.  </p><p>General Hux is NOT Amused, but... it's Tradition.  And the galaxy is doomed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Total crackfic. I'm supposed to be working on something else entirely, but that's how it goes. The Force has a sense of humor.

Hux sat at the table in the Finalizer’s main wardroom, half-listening to Lieutenant Mitaka read off the orders of the day. At this point in time, there was little to do except oversee the construction of their base, patrol for any enemy intrusions into their remote sector of space, train their troops and crew, and stave off boredom as best as possible. He tuned in just in time to catch Mitaka saying:

“And as a final note to officers and staff, Cadet Commandant Lieje wishes to remind us that the senior cadets are away with her for a tenday on their pre-graduation field trip to Nar Shaddaa. Which means during this time span Junior Challenge is officially under way.”

Hux felt a jolt of horror run through him. “What?! Already started?”

“Yes sir, as of 0100 hours this morning, ship time.” Mitaka nodded grimly. 

“I don’t care where or what – it could be a board meeting of the Hutt Chiropractic Association – find a meeting somewhere to get me off this ship! Now!” Hux fixed Mitaka with his best deadly stare, all the while trying to tamp down the rush of internal panic welling in his mind. 

“But… but sir, it’s too late. You’re the now the most-senior officer in charge for…” Mitaka checked his datapad, nodded glumly. “For the next tenday shift.”

“That can’t be true?” Hux paced the wardroom, feeling the sweat starting to bead up under his uniform. 

“Yes, sir. Captain Phasma has taken a squad of trainees to Onderon for some live-fire exercises. Captains Baines and Smit have done likewise, each to a different planet.” Mitaka squinted at an entry on the calendar. “Er, Naval Captain Nalsan has given the _Finalizer’s_ con to one of the junior officers and his schedule says: _somewhere on Nar Shaddaa, back when it’s over, good luck_.” 

“The huttslime!” Hux bashed his fist into the tabletop, then winced and rubbed at his bruised knuckles. Taking a steadying breath, he asked in calmer tones. “Have you seen the “shopping list” the seniors left for the juniors?”

“No, sir,” Mitaka scowled at his datapad, “I’ve got our slicers working on it, but this year’s students have all gotten high marks for new strong data encryption techniques and our people haven’t yet decoded it.” 

“Stars above, last year the top item on the list was the stripes off my coat!” Hux put his hands possessively over the rank markings on his sleeves at the memory. 

“And a set of Captain Phasma’s briefs.” Mitaka totally failed at suppressing his blush. “Plus the 51st Spec Ops brigade’s Battle of Yavin honor trophy.” 

Hux sighed deeply. “Took forever to repair all the blaster damage on deck 32.” 

“Look at the bright side sir,” said Mitaka with a wan smile. “This year’s seniors couldn’t come up with anything worse.” 

\---

“Well, what’re we lookin’ at?” the leader of the junior midshipmen shot this question at his team. The cadets were huddled around a large slicing console. The door to their dormitory wardroom was locked, the anti-snooping shields were running. The data decryption was already done, and everyone leaned in to hear the challenges awaiting them. 

“Mmm, yes, most of the items are trivial, Cap,” said Alkar, his second, running a finger down the display. 

“Well, spit ‘em out then, Al, we’ve only got a few days.”

“Aye-aye.” Alkar nodded her head briskly, short-cropped brown hair waving. 

“An inquisitor’s robe from the permanent collection in the ship’s main library.”

“Easy.” Cap snorted and snapped his fingers. “We broke their lock codes first thing this year.” 

“One of the romance novels Lieutenant Mitaka keeps under his bunk.”

“Oooo.” Snickers and giggles were hastily muffled as their group captain gave them a stern look. 

“The tul’kata tooth Sgt. Grisweld wears around her neck under her armor.”

“Moderately challenging,” said Cap, cracking his knuckles. “If that’s it, we’ll be enjoying the rewards in under two days. Anything else?”

Alkar scowled. “One more item. A group holo of us holding the last trophy – Darth Vader’s mask.” 

“What?” Everyone stared at Alkar dubiously. 

Her scowl deepened as she read on. “We’re got to steal the mask, take it to the forward lounge, snap our picture, upload it to the holonet, and then return the mask to its owner.”

Cap frowned and scratched his head. “I didn’t even know Vader’s mask still existed.”

“Me either, didn’t it get destroyed when he died?”

“Nope, it’s actually aboard the _Finalizer_ , the list has the coordinates here.” Alkar tapped at the console to bring up the ship’s schematics and deck layouts. She stabbed at finger at the screen.” Here we go, it’s in this stateroom.”

“In a stateroom? That’s weird. A valuable artifact like that, you’d think it would be in a vault or something.” Cap paced forward to stare at the console screen. “Who’s in those rooms?”

Alkar pulled up the roster and did the cross-reference. Her brown skin turned ashen. “Those frakking seniors!”

“What? Who’s in there?”

“Kylo Ren, that’s who! Those are his private quarters!”

“Oh. Kriff.” 

An unhappy murmuring rose from the assembled juniors. 

“Guys, this is our honor on the line here,” said Cap, collecting his composure. “Not to mention some of the finest Corellian brandy in the galaxy if we succeed. We won’t get the locking codes for the cupboard with our reward until the list is completed and we send the proof to the seniors, that’s the tradition.” 

“Yeah, but Lord Ren’s a Sith or something!” said Parini, drumming her fingers nervously on the table. “I’ve seen him pull crewers and officers alike clean across the bridge when he’s pissed. Some of the old Imperial officers say people with magic like his can kill you with a thought.” She mimed a throat-cutting gesture with her forefinger. 

“And he’s got a nasty lightsaber – I’ve seen what he can do with that thing and it isn’t pretty,” said Rupart, one of the slicing team. “I don’t fancy being served up like grilled nerf-kebab, that sort of slicing is hard to repair.” 

“Let’s not mention the torture chamber he keeps.” Okan thoughtfully pointed at a compartment on another deck.

“Technically that’s an enhanced interrogation room,” Efrei added helpfully. “But whatever the official name, we don’t wanna end up in there with him.” 

“I can’t be hearing this! Isn’t our class motto “Victory or Death”?” Cap glared at them.

“Kriff no, Cap, that’s the ‘trooper spec ops’ motto. Ours is, “Drink till you puke then drink some more!” Belle mimed drinking, but his joke did little to ease the tension in the room.

“I’ll do it.” A new voice spoke up over the general babble. 

The juniors turned in unison to look at the smallest member of their class, a skinny young woman with legs like pipe stems and black hair that no amount of cutting or combing could entirely tame. Some of it hung over her eyes now that the hair gel had given up, the rest was pulled back into a defiantly unruly pony tail. 

“You lost your mind?” Alkar was shaking her head. 

“Doro, you’re volunteering to go in those rooms and get the mask?” Okan stared at her.

Doro cracked her knuckles and grinned. “Hells, yes! Before I joined up with the ‘Order, I was the best kiddie-thief on Nar Shaddaa. I’d steal everything that wasn’t nailed down, the more difficult and dangerous the better. Grabbed Morgu’kai ceremonial swords right off their altar in the middle of their worship and stole a fire gem from a Zeltron lady’s navel while she was dancing.” She walked over to peer at the image of Kylo Ren’s stateroom. “Of course, I’m gonna need a little help from the rest o’you lot.” 

“Now we’re talkin’! Gather ‘round people!” Cap gestured to the rest of the group. 

“We _have_ lost our minds,” said Alkar, pulling a chair closer. “We’re all gonna die.” 

“Just tell us what you need, Doro.” He grinned at Alkar and the rest. “We’ll die in a good cause.” 

“I’ll list out some supplies and gear for all of us to start, and then we’ll need to talk logistics,” said Doro, tapping at her datapad. Seating herself cross-legged on the table she rubbed her hands, face alight with conspiratorial glee. “To pull this off, we’re going to need everyone coordinating – communications, slicing, muscle, engineering…” She nodded. “And music. Yeah. Music.” 

\----

Hux stared. A small group of cadets, distinctive in their soft grey uniforms and youthful faces, were skipping up the corridor in loose formation, scattering small objects into the air as they went and singing merrily. His skin crawled as they approached, but they passed him by as if he was invisible. One carried something that looked like a bugle, the rest all bore instruments on their backs. Hux saw two parade drums, cymbals, a brace of trumpets, a synthesax, a fiddle, and a set of yuzzem war-pipes, flopping over the back of a gangly redheaded girl like some sort of half-dead dianoga. Everyone wore expressions of manic joy. 

“What do ye do wi’a drunken sailor!” they sang, not entirely on-key. The things they were scattering proved to be flower petals, in garish shades of pink, made of flexiplast. The scent of ale lingered on the air as they galumphed by his quarters and up the hallway singing and sniggering. 

The skin on the back of Hux’s neck crawled in anticipation of Something Awful to come. He watched them narrowly as they passed the doors of a number of the senior staff officers, looking neither to the right nor left as they progressed, their voices dwindling as they got further away.

The terrible thing was that the Junior Challenge was an honorable Fleet Tradition of such long standing it even predated the old Republic and the Empire. It was the rite of passage of every class and Hux had no power to stop it from happening, short of an attack by the enemy or space pirates and even that would only delay the inevitable. 

“What are they up to?” Hux squinted after them. “They’ve already ignored the staterooms of the highest-ranked officers on the ship, barring those who command the Stormtroopers.” He turned away to step back into his own rooms. “The only other person down at the far end of the passage is… Lord Ren.” For the second time that day, Hux felt the sweat break out on his forehead. 

“No.”


	2. Away all Boats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The _Finalizer's_ junior cadets set their plan in motion to "borrow" Lord Vader's mask from Kylo Ren with Hux as a reluctant witness.

Hux stepped into the corridor to look for the cadets. Sure enough, they were nearly at the staterooms that served as Ren’s shipboard lair.

“”Scuse me General, you might not want to stand in the middle of the passageway, sir.” A pair of cadets were industriously dumping greenish liquid on the deck, laying down a grid-like pattern. Another young man was placing what could only be explosive devices against the walls. 

“What are you people doing?!”

“Preparing, sir.” Said one of the middies, a woman with brown skin and short dark hair.

“Strictly “need to know” sir.” Said the other. “But… you really don’t want to be standing there for the next few minutes.”  
The woman touched a hand to her left ear, listening to the embedded comlink, nodding. Aloud she said, “They’re all in position, team one and team two.”

The tall young man with sandy hair grinned. “Tell them… they may proceed when ready.” 

“Aye, Cap.” 

Hux felt his mouth go dry and against his better judgement looked down the corridor at the distant team of musicians rather than retreat into his quarters. 

Directly in front of the door to Ren’s stateroom, the cadet with the bugle lifted his hands, the group formed up into a passable square and raised their instruments. The piper blew into her pipes, a low hum echoed up the hall, and the strains of an old marching song wended their way to Hux’s ears. The introduction was actually fairly soft and pleasant, then the drums began a staccato tattoo followed closely by the other instruments and punctuated by the clash of cymbals. By the third repetition the noise was impressive and rapidly building toward painful with each repetition. 

Crawling through the cramped spaces of the serviceway above the ceilings of the staterooms, Doro could hear the music swelling in volume even through the layers of walls and ceiling tiles. She grinned but froze in place as she distinctly heard the sound of someone moving about in the chamber below. Closing her eyes she imagined herself a small creature like the rodents that scrambled through the ducts of Nar Shaddaa, lean and hungry, thinking only of scavenging a meal. The person in the room below uttered a low sound and stamped from the room, heading toward the door. Doro fastened a set of grippers to the ceiling tile, unsealed it with a small hand tool, and eased it upward. The opening was small, but sufficient to allow her passage. Silent as a ghost, she descended on her fine line, then cast about for the object of her quest. 

Lord Vader’s mask sat on a dark plinth under a wan overhead light. Doro sucked in her breath. The thing was obviously not a trophy, but was displayed as if it were the relic of an honored ancestor. Goosebumps rose up on her arms. The Morgu’kai venerated their ancestors in a similar way and had strict rituals to follow when dealing with such items. 

The mask looked burned and half fallen-in from the ravages of an old fire, but when Doro touched it, it seemed sturdy enough. A quick check confirmed it had no security devices attached to it, so she simply wrapped it up quickly in the protective padding she had packed, then placed it in the thief’s satchel over her back. Eyeing the now-bare plinth she touched two fingers to her mouth. _You’ll be back soon, don’t worry_. Working as quickly as possible, she winched herself up through the opening in the ceiling, replaced the tile and wormed her way on her belly around the ductwork and power cables toward the hallway where her comrades were performing. 

Outside the hallway thrummed to the sonic assault as the band swung into another marching song. 

“Incoming.” 

Rupart’s warning sounded in Okan’s com a moment before the stateroom door slid open and an invisible force plucked the bugle from his hands, cutting his part of the music off in mid-note. The players ceased their efforts and the sudden silence was perhaps more disturbing than the noise. 

Hux stepped out as far as he could from his doorway and not step in the green stuff on the deck. 

While most of the cadets had glimpsed Lord Ren at rare intervals, none of them had actually been near the man. Now he was close enough to touch, a tall, imposing presence in black robes and mask, looming in the doorway like an evil spirit. Okan’s bugle floated somewhere near the ceiling. 

Okan clicked his heels and snapped a salute at the dark thing. “Sir! Isn’t this Lieutenant Koshana’s quarters?”

“The senior midshipmen ordered we deliver a musical salute to the Lieutenant at 0900 hours, sir,” said one of the drummers, holding up a scrap of flimsy with a scrawl of handwriting on it. 

“These chambers are mine.” Ren’s voice was modulated through a vocoder in his helmet. It sounded deceptively mild, but a low growl hovered in the undertone. There was a long painful silence and then he spoke again. “The lower-ranking officers are quartered two decks below.” He gestured and the scrap of flimsy leaped into his hand. He glanced at it quickly and let it fall. “Someone has given you incorrect coordinates –a joke at your expense, perhaps.”

Okan’s flush was genuine. “We’re very sorry for the intrusion, sir. By your leave, we’ll take our concert to the proper deck; we’re already late.” The little band executed a right-march turn and began to move out. 

“Wait.” 

The group halted, having only gotten a few strides away. Okan’s throat felt very dry. 

“What was that piece of music you were playing?”

“ _Corellia the Brave_ , sir, it’s an old marching tune.” 

Without another word, Lord Ren vanished into his quarters. 

“Double-time lads and lassies, we’ve got an appointment to keep,” said Okan, managing to retrieve his floating bugle and pushing his squad mates back down the corridor. Everyone stretched their legs to put as much space as possible between Lord Ren’s rooms and themselves without actually breaking into a run. 

Fifteen meters ahead of them a ceiling tile was pulled up and Doro slithered out in front of the company. At once everyone placed their instruments along the wall, slung small rounded packs over their shoulders that had been concealed in the drums, and began to trot briskly toward the far end of the corridor and the banks of turbolifts beyond the stretch of shiny green flooring opposite the General’s quarters. 

“Did you?”

“Shh! Not a thought or a word till it doesn’t matter,” Doro hissed. “Think o’something else, like music or your next hot date.” 

“He’s always thinking of a date,” said Efrei, the bagpiper. 

Okan ignored her and spoke into his com. “What’s R’s position?”

Everyone heard the answer in their ears. “Holding steady in his stateroom, kind of moving around… um… he’s entering the room where…”

“We’re in position near the lifts,” Cap’s voice was calm.

“He’s heading toward his door, fast!” Rupart sounded breathless. “I’ve jammed the lock from here, but it’s not going to hold.” 

“Run!” Cap’s command was extraneous, but the squad sprinted for the turbolifts as if he had just called the start of a race. 

Hux watched them come, running for their lives, maintaining good discipline, he noted with a pang of pride, keeping out of each other’s way and not panicking. Looking beyond the cadets, he counted off the seconds. One, two, three… five, six... nine, ten. A black ball of fury burst from the distant stateroom bellowing like a bull rancor, the door shattering into flinders. _What did they DO?_ He wondered as he stared in fascinated horror at the approaching apocalypse. Hux was not Force-sensitive, but even he could feel the cloud of rage that blew up the corridor like fire before the wind. _Such fine tactical coordination. It’s a pity they’re going to be dead in minutes_. 

The cadets dashed by, high-stepping through the gridwork of green stuff on the deck, the turbolifts 30 meters beyond.

“Take cover, General,” said Cap. 

As Hux retreated into his doorway, the cadet’s leader triggered the charges, they burst with soft explosions, dispersing a thick fogbank of smoke that filled the corridor for a good ten meters, obscuring everything except the sound of Ren’s fast-approaching footfalls.

“Tubolifts now.” Their squad leader said. “Step lively mates.” 

Ren saw the hallway fill with smoke and smiled tightly behind his mask. Smoke did nothing to hide the cadet’s bodies from the Force, he sensed their shapes clearly, concentrating as he was on laying his hands on them as swiftly as possible. Reaching out with the Force, he grabbed at the hindmost. The young man froze in mid-stride, but instead of abandoning their comrade, his fellows grabbed him and pulled with all their strength, an instant later, his jacket gave with a loud rip, the fabric and the round pack he’d carried on his back flew into Ren’s outstretched hands. 

Ren stopped to tear the package open and stared at the object thus revealed. It was a regulation football from one of the rec rooms. Some wag had used a marker to make smiley faces on the pale patches. He tossed the ball away with a snort.  
“Surrender now and I’ll let you die quickly,” he called pushing at them with the Force as he strode onward toward the smoky fogbank. The cadets were high on adrenaline however and not in a suggestible state. He distinctly heard one of them laugh.

“Nuts!” 

Several raised their hands on the other side of the fog bank as they ran, but given they were holding up both middle fingers it did not signify surrender. 

“I think that means “no”,” said another voice, from a farther distance. The cadets had kept on going even while shouting over their shoulders. 

“Fine, we’ll do this the hard way.” Ren charged forward into the smoke screen even as the gang of thieves gained the bank of turbolifts and piled into them, splitting into two groups. His boots hit a patch of something that was slicker than huttslime. While the Force saved him from doing a full face-plant on the deck, it couldn’t stop him from sliding on his stomach for five meters, spinning dizzily. He lost several long seconds trying to find a patch of floor that wasn’t covered with slippery goo and had to resort to crawling till he emerged from both the slick zone and the smoke screen. 

The cadets had taken both turbolifts and a quick scan confirmed one was moving downward and the other up. Ren bashed his hand against the controls, but the turbolift did not respond to such threats. While waiting for one of the lifts to return he reached out for the minds of his prey. They weren’t hard to detect, given their state of determination spiked with a healthy dose of fear, however their brains were buzzing like a Tatooine sand-skimmer’s nest and Ren could not at that moment pinpoint who was actually carrying his grandfather’s helm. The bulk of their thoughts were a roiling funk of obscenities, random alarms, and lustful flashes. Ren winced and rubbed his temples. _Cadets- they’re teenagers. They don’t have a clear thought among them!_ He bashed the turbolift controls again. _If they damage it… I’ll find a sarlacc pit and throw them all in._

Hux had retreated into his stateroom once the cadets had hurled their brief défi at Ren. When he heard the wet splat the dark Jedi made as he hit the slick trap on the floor, he closed the door and backed away, hands over his mouth to stifle any hysterical laughter. Ren was not a forgiving creature on the best of days, and Hux had no wish to offer a convenient outlet for his wrath.  
_My cadets, how can I keep them alive?_ He began tapping at his datapad, pulling up files and scanning the information as rapidly as possible. _This year’s junior class is only twelve people, I can’t afford to lose the best and brightest of the First Order’s young officers. Taking on a crazy wizard like Ren! Whatever possessed them to accept such a challenge from the seniors?_ He scowled at the screen, knowing full well why they had all decided to plunge off the cliff together. To refuse such a challenge would have been worse than death, in their minds. _Maybe I could get them all on a shuttle and send them off to the Unknown Regions till Ren cools down? The problem is, how to find them before Ren does._ He shuddered. _Given how efficient a murderer he usually is, I’ll probably only find them by stumbling over their severed body parts._

“Split,” said Cap as the turbolift slowed. “Take the aft lifts to the forward lounge and rec area, Senlo has the holocam set up. Once we’re assembled, we’ll take a snap with our prize and send it off to the seniors.”

“And after that?” asked Alkar, brushing a layer of smoke dust from her sleeves. 

Cap grinned. “Doro returns what she took and the rest of us try to stay alive while she does it.” 

“Piece of cake.” Okar, stripped to his undershirt by Ren’s Force attack, nodded and smiled. “The hard part’s done.”

“Pffft!” Doro, who had been taking a long pull from a bottle of electrolyte, spit her mouthful of green liquid across the lift and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “Jate’jaro.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has music, starting off with "Drunken Sailor". They serenade Ren with "Corellia the Brave" or _Scotland the Brave_ to us Earthlings. The cadets are playing it with their combination of instruments and are going for "feeling" as well as volume. For chase music try "The Rocky Road to Dublin". 
> 
> Drunken Sailor (the Irish Rovers) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qGyPuey-1Jw&index=4&list=RDPSH0eRKq1lE  
> Scotland the Brave: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PSH0eRKq1lE&list=RDPSH0eRKq1lE  
> The Rocky Road to Dublin (the Dubliners) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jxBKgOyMzSc
> 
> Jate'jaro - Mandalorian for "a good, reckless act".


	3. Set all Sails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victory, or at least survival, goes to the swift. A little cleverness and a large dose of luck doesn't hurt, either.

“Ready? Three quick snaps, I’ll upload to the ‘net and then we’re off again.” 

Semlo stood behind the holocam, peering at the preview image and gesturing with his hands. “Close up a bit. Alkar, stand up straight. There.” Running around the camera to join them, he triggered the holocam, which rapidly caught three images. 

“Uploading… done!” 

“Excellent.” Cap nodded at the object sitting carefully on a low table in front of them. “Doro, it’s all yours now, think you can do it?”

Doro carefully re-wrapped Vader’s helm and returned it to her satchel, slinging the bundle over her shoulders. 

“Aye. Her grin was wide and reckless. Stay alive and stay away from the officer’s row. I’ll be done in ten or fifteen, if the gods are kind. I'll com when it's done. Parjai o'kyr'am vod*." 

"Victory or death," they responded. 

"Where shall we rendezvous, Cap?” asked Parini. 

“Back here, assuming all goes well, there’s a large meeting room in the back we can use.” Cap addressed the rest of his team, holding their eyes for a moment. “Stick to your buddies, stay in com touch everyone, and try not to run through the trooper barracks, I’d like to avoid casualties.”

Efrei snickered, slightly hysterical. “Besides us?”

“Exactly.” Cap nodded, his face looking suddenly far more mature than his seventeen years. He squared his shoulders. “Right, on my mark… go!” The group split into twos and threes, each little squad taking a different exit from the large compartment.  
\---  
Five members of the 43rd Engineering crew were busily unit testing a newly-upgraded turbolaser, gathered around the weapon’s aux console along the forward edge of the Finalizer’s long lateral canyon. Normally the weapons were run remotely by the weapon crew, but testing, repair, and upgrades required hands-on work. Mobile gear carts and technical droids took up much of the narrow passageway, which was not usually a problem since these long side corridors saw little foot traffic. 

“Power up completed, burn-in successful,” one of the techs said to her companions. “Start the targeting simulation, Derak. NT, I want you to record and monitor the simulations.” The droid at her elbow beeped an affirmation. 

“Roger that,” said Derak, tapping the keypad on the main console. A steaming mug of kaf sat beside his elbow. 

“Say, Yender, do you hear something odd?” The third member of the team sat along the edge of the passage, piles of gear arrayed before him, along with the two mech-droids who did the bulk of the part-swapping. 

“Odd?” Yender, a slender man whose pale blue skin spoke of Chiss heritage, looked up from his datapad.

“Yeah, like drumming?”

“Or running? Definitely people running.” One by one the engineers looked down the long corridor. “Bad time to be running laps, we’ve got things pretty well jammed up right here.” 

“Cadets,” said Yender with a nod.

“How can you tell?” asked Derak, sipping his kaf.

“Light footfalls. They are young by your standards and very young by mine; they have not yet achieved their full body mass.” 

“Isn’t it Junior Challenge right now?” Kyevan frowned. “They better not be planning to nick our gear.” He put a protective hand over his datapad and stack of upgrade chips. 

“Here they come.” Lelei pulled her droid to the wall, trying to clear something of a path for the oncoming cadets. The three youngsters were running hard, their expressions determined. As they raced closer they began to shout. 

“Take cover! Take cover! This is not a drill!” 

“What’s wrong?” shouted Leilei. 

“Incoming!” The cadets were on them, leaping over and around the clutter of their gear, bashing into Kyevan, they hastily set him upright with apologies and dashed away, sprinting for the single turbolift ten meters away. 

“Cadets, honestly!” Derak bent down to help the others gather up their scattered bins of fasteners, tools, and data chips. Their droids rolled around in pursuit of small items that had been knocked down by the three teenagers. “What they get up to these days.”

“At least they didn’t break anything.” Yender exhaled a sigh of relief, then looked down the hall as he realized the noise of the cadets had masked another set of footfalls. “AAAAAA!” 

His scream of terror was augmented by howls from his fellows and alarms of distress from the droids as Kylo Ren galloped up and plowed into them with all the grace of a charging bantha. A bow-wave of crushing force plastered everyone, humanoid and droid alike, to the walls and ceiling as he blasted by, flinging their gear, tools, data chips, lunches, and drinks into the air. A moment later everything began to rain down onto the deck and the turbolaser console. Derak’s cup of kaf and Yender’s bottle of water sluiced over the electronic panel, which had not been designed to be fluid-resistant. The console exploded in a shower of hissing sparks. 

Ignoring the screams and curses left in his wake, Ren gained the turbolift just seconds too late. The cadets were gone, traveling upward toward the core of the ship. Once the lift returned he found the controls had been covered with a thick layer of quick-setting hull sealant, already hardened into a steel-like consistency. 

“Hmmf.” The exhalation came out metallic and sharp. 

Turning on his heel, he ran back to where the engineers were just picking themselves up from the deck and directing the droid’s efforts at fire suppression.

“You! Where is the nearest turbolift to this one?” The engineers were so rattled, they pointed in what appeared to be random directions, but each one was correctly pointing at some turbolift embedded in their memories. 

The Chiss, divining perhaps something of what Ren wanted, pointed. “Side corridor that way, lift ten meters to starboard.”

Ren tore through the huddled group toward the indicated side alleyway, managing to punt all of their droids and most of their gear thirty meters down the hall. The few surviving data chips exploded into fragments on impact with the bulkheads. 

“K-kriff on a stick!” Keyevan smacked his forehead with his open palm.

“Our upgrades,” groaned Leilei, putting her head in her hands.

“I’ll begin filing the damage report,” said Yender with a deep sigh.  
\---  
From a large office near the bridge, Hux watched the progress of the cadets and Ren through his ship as damage control requests propagated like ripples from a boulder thrown into a placid pond. Lieutenant Mitaka and several ensigns fielded complaints and monitored the dispatching of repair crews. 

“Sir, the mid-ship exercise pool is reported to be draining into the NCO’s mess.” Ensign Tabha scowled at the rapidly-scrolling readout. 

“Turbolifts on decks 12, 34, and 41 have had hull sealant applied to control panels and around the lift doors. Technicians are also reporting what seems to be lightsaber damage in those areas as well.” 

“Lateral sublight engineering deck has just reported the destruction of several catwalks and maintenance gantries.”

“Casualties?” His face set into a permanent frown, Mitaka looked at the young man. 

“Minor, sir,” said the ensign, checking the display. “Mostly sprains and strains, a few spot-burns caused by the spalling of melted metal.” 

“Very good,” Mitaka made a face, “Well, not _good_ , but it could be worse. Tell the repair teams to wait until Lord Ren has vacated the compartment before beginning work.” 

“I want our cadets to survive this.” Hux paced the room, scrubbed a hand through his hair distractedly. 

“So you can shoot them later?” Mitaka said quietly.

“No, of course not, that would be a waste of the time and resources the First Order has put into their training.” Hux’s face set in a tight smile. “I might of course find them… appropriate assignments to keep them occupied for the next year or two, but think of it –their problem-solving skills, ability to work as a team under pressure, and entrepreneurial spirit will be a great asset to the Order’s advancement.” 

“All they have to do is live, sir.”

“Details, details.” Hux pointed at a schematic of the ship. “We could close the emergency airlock doors between compartments and limit Ren’s freedom of movement.”

“The doors are strong, sir, but they aren’t made of neuranium. Lord Ren will be able to cut through them in minutes. And because the cadets are in constant motion we’d risk trapping them in the same area as Lord Ren. Not to mention all the crew in those zones as well.” He absently nibbled a thumbnail.

Ensign Tabha wiped his brow on his sleeve, eyes glued to the console readouts. “If you want to slow him down sir, we could try it. Lord Ren _might_ leave the crew alone.”

Hux uttered a short laugh. “And rancors _might_ eat vegetables.” He shook his head. “Never mind, but if you see an opportunity where we have a decent chance of success to slow him down and not endanger the crew, let me know.” He eyed the holoscreen, updating so fast the information rolled off the display nearly as swiftly as it came in. 

“I’d like to know what they did to get Ren so very annoyed.” Hands clasped behind his back, Hux paced the room.

“Er… “ Ensign Chogal coughed.

“Ensign?”

“New com chatter says they stole Lord Vader’s mask from Lord Ren’s private stateroom. They posted a picture to the holonet a few minutes ago.”

Hux sternly suppressed the urge to bash his head against the wall, but his junior officers noted he turned so red in the face that his freckles looked pale in contrast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Parjai o'kyr'am - Mando'a for "victory or death"  
> vod - mates/comrades (familiar)
> 
> Neuranium is a radiation and lightsaber resistant ultra-dense metal.


	4. Galley and Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Undeterred, Cookie collected himself. "Yew scabs r'gonna get it, right after I take care of th'lady who's helpin' ya!" 
> 
> "Th-that's no lady," Efrei said faintly. 
> 
> Life is simple: Don't mess with the cook. Don't insult the dark Jedi.

Cookie, the Houk chef for the NCO’s mess, was not having a good day. The big bipedal reptilian stamped around as he tried to prepare the evening meal for the main cycle. The exercise pool on the deck above had developed a serious crack for reasons known only to the dark gods of Korriban, which meant it had been raining in the mess hall and his normally-tidy galley. The dripping water plinked into buckets placed to limit the damage. Some sort of stupid ship-wide drill was going on, producing random alarms and making the crew and even the droids jumpy. A jumpy droid was almost as bad as a jumpy human crewer at piping icing, chopping vegetables, and doing all the fiddly prep work required for the meals that would keep the NCOs happy. 

Cookie scratched a scaly hand across his enormous belly, covered with an equally-enormous apron, muttering venomous oaths at the latest insult to his day. While the Finalizer’s thousands of enlisted crew and Stormtroopers ate bulk synthesized rations, which could be stored in huge quantities without spoilage and served up quickly, the NCOs and officers all had some share of fresh food whenever it could be procured, and Cookie was justifiably proud of his ability to lay in stocks of fruits, vegetables, and occasionally fresh meats to grace the mess hall tables. 

The topper to his “off day” had come in the form of a delivery of fresh Tarisian garden fowl. That they were fresh could not be denied, since the birds had been delivered live rather than plucked and ready for cooking. The double doors to the port pantry stood propped open to accommodate the stacked cages of unhappy poultry. 

“Scrubby!” the Houk barked at one of his assistant droids, a utilitarian white machine with multiple arms and an impressive culinary toolkit. “Check an’ see if any o’ the crew are from farms an’ know how to butcher an’ prep live birds for cookin’.” He scratched the spiny top of his head, glaring at the squawking birds. The droid beeped a query. “No! Killin’ stuff ain’t the same as butcherin’, you oughtta know that!” He stumped off toward the starboard side of his large galley. “Get some big boilers ready for scalding, and we might as well make blood sausage once we get those stupid things slaughtered, plucked, an’ drained.” Muttering under his breath, he pulled up a recipe book, searching for side dishes that complemented roasted fowl. “Humans, gotta eat their meat cooked – just don’t ‘preciate fresh food.”  
\---  
“I think we’re in luck, he isn’t chasing us,” Mbino stage-whispered to Efrei as they walked briskly along the axial corridor. Rupart had contacted the team moments earlier to say that Doro had successfully completed her mission to return Vader’s helm to its resting-place in Lord Ren’s quarters. Everyone was trying to work their way back to the observation room rendezvous point without bringing the dark Jedi with them.  
Efrei made a non-committal sound as she listened to her comlink. “Right, we’re heading forward now. Sounds like R’s last position was near the lateral turbolaster batteries, but Viella and her team gave him the slip.” 

“Good for them.” The dark-haired boy gave his taller companion a playful poke in the ribs. “We’ve got a perfect score so far.”

“Don’t jinx it!” Efrei raised her head and sniffed. “Mmm, we’re getting near the galley and someone’s frying onions. Wish I actually felt hungry.”

“Wonder if we could go ‘round and grab a sandwich? I’m starving.” Mbino rubbed his stomach as it growled at him. 

“It’s not even lunchtime for our cycle yet!”

“Yeah, but we’ve been exercising all morning.” He grinned at Efrei. “Haven’t you heard the old saying, “an army marches on its stomach”?”

“Ugh, there’s no way in space I want to eat anything right now.” She shook her head. “Food would just weigh me down.”

The scent of cooking grew stronger then faded as they hiked the long main passage toward the large bank of turbolifts that serviced the main core of the ship. The doors to the lifts opened at regular intervals, disgorging officers, troopers, and regular crewers. Thirty meters from their goal, the doors opened and four troopers skipped out, moving away at a brisk trot. Efrei elbowed Mbino. The reason for the trooper’s haste became obvious when Kylo Ren strolled out of the same turbolift and halted, waiting in front of the lifts with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“About face,” Efrei hissed, tugging Mbino smoothly around and heading back the way they came. “He hasn’t spotted us yet.”

“Try to blend in,” Mbino added helpfully, edging them closer to a small group of crewers walking and reading their datapads at the same time, blissfully unaware of the dark presence at the end of the hall. 

“Blend in how, boy genius?” she hissed.

“I dunno, walk casually.” 

“ **YOU.”**

The power in that one vocoder-filtered word froze everyone in their place, except for the two cadets, who heard it as the starting bell and took to their heels. This of course made them stand out painfully to anyone looking for them. The crewers in the corridor edged toward the bulkheads, clearing an open path for Ren, who extended one arm in their direction. Mbino yelped and halted in midstride, fell onto the deck, then began to slide backward toward their pursuer. 

“He’s got my legs!” he gasped, fingers scrabbling uselessly on the flooring. 

“Hold on!” Efrei grabbed his arms, set her heels, and pulled with all her strength. She felt something start to give and made another herculean effort. 

**RIIIP!**

“F#cking frack!” Mbino popped free like a cork from a bottle, causing Efrei to sit down hard on her backside for a moment, before she scrambled up, hauled him to his feet, and ran. Mbino, minus his trousers, sprinted along beside her, his face crimson. 

“Stars, he’s pantsed you!” She laughed hysterically despite her terror. “I didn’t think that would work at all when Doro said to loosen the stitching in our jackets and trousers. Never thought her thieves’ tricks would come in handy.” 

“Yeahh, well, Cap said to wear a trooper’s body glove under our uniforms, but guess who forgot that little detail?” 

“Hey at least he didn’t get your shorts as well, “Efrei snickered. 

Mbino looked nervously over his shoulder. Grabbing Efrei by the wrist, the smaller cadet stretched his legs and ran faster. “C’mon, we’ll take a shortcut through the galley – there’s a back exit from the pantries!” He pulled her around a corner into a side corridor. 

Clutching the empty pair of trousers, Ren loped along in pursuit, the unfortunate crew in the hall doing their best to stay out of his way. _If I’d thought to keep the jacket I pulled off one of these children earlier, I’d almost have a complete uniform._ He tossed the rumpled fabric to one side, and turned the corner just in time to see the two cadets disappear into the galley. Smiling, he hastened his pace. _That should be a dead end._

Far faster than he expected the cadets exited the galley at high speed, trailing a cloud of fear, which would have been wonderful, except he could tell he was not the proximate cause of their panic. The skinny boy (minus trousers) and even skinnier girl sprinted toward him waving their arms and shouting. 

“Run! Run for it!” cried the girl. 

“Cookie!” shouted the boy. “Cookie! Cookie!” 

_They’re upset about… food?_ Ren thought in confusion. 

He easily caught them each by an arm, oddly enough this didn’t seem to bother them, instead they began trying to turn him around and pull him back up the corridor. 

“Run, he’s having an off day!” 

Ren was not cooperating about turning or running, planting his feet solidly. “What are you talking about?” 

“Him!” The girl pointed in fear toward the galley. 

Cookie burst through the galley doors, a huge cleaver clutched in each fist, beady eyes narrowed, burning in fury worthy of a proper darksider. He spied the cadets in Ren’s grip. “Yew brats! I’m gonna mertilize ya!” He suddenly seemed to notice Ren. “And yer girly friend, too!” Brandishing his culinary weapons, he stomped toward them. 

“Ough.” Mbino tried to tug Ren into motion. “Run, he’s nasty when he’s raging.” 

“They say he’s a sithspawn.” Efrei squeaked, likewise pulling at Ren’s arm without much success. 

“He has plenty of anger, I will give him that.” Ren was torn between amusement at the situation and mild pique that the cadets feared the cook more than himself. “But he’s no Sith, spawn or otherwise.” Transferring Mbino around his body he trapped both of the cadets’ wrists in one large hand. Raising his right hand and drawing it back, he pushed outward sharply, generating a blast of Force-driven air that propelled Cookie back into his galley with a crash. 

“Well, that’s done it for sure,” said Mbino, looking from the galley to Ren and back again. 

“Aya.” Efrei could only manage a brief affirmative. 

"Now then," said Lord Ren softly, "I believe we had some... unfinished business."

The cadets gaped at the galley doors, then began trying once again to pull him away from the area. 

"Sure, sure, anywhere but here!" 

"It does not matter where we go." 

"Yes it does! Eeee!" Both of the youngsters were still trying to tug Ren into motion. 

“Stop fighting me.” 

"Look out!" 

Both cadets sat on the deck and pulled hard enough to actually cause Ren to stoop down for a moment. 

A whoosh of displaced air above his helmeted head alerted him to the fact that Cookie, his reptilian face purple with rage, had just tried to part his head from his shoulders with a cleaver. 

_How did he move so swiftly - and without my feeling him?_ Ren Force-jumped both himself and his captives back several meters. 

Undeterred, Cookie collected himself. "Yew scabs r'gonna get it, right after I take care of th'lady who's helpin' ya!" 

"Th-that's no lady," Efrei said faintly. Beside her Mbino held his peace, eyes as big as saucers. 

Raising his weapons, Cookie prepared to charge. 

Ren lifted his hand again and this time the cadets could feel the ripple of building energy around him. He let fly just as Cookie's massive feet left the deck to propel himself toward them. The blast when released felt like that of an ancient cannon and had the same effect. Cookie was blown down the hall and into the galley with such force they could hear the heavy smashing of everything inside as the bolt of destructive energy hit. An instant later, a ball of "stuff" exploded from the galley - pots, pans, utensils, and so many squawking garden fowl and feathers it looked as if some wizard had conjured up a noisy instant blizzard. 

"That's just..." 

"Brilliant." Efrei was grinning, unable to contain her delight at the sheer scale of the mess. 

"Now then, before we were interrupted..." Ren purred. 

A deep creaking noise made him pause and look at the galley. 

"Uh, it was raining in the galley, that's why Cookie was so mad to begin with." Mbino made a falling motion with his free hand. “Water was dripping on everything.” 

"Raining?" 

"Yeah, _someone_ cracked the pool on the deck above." The cadets looked at Ren appraisingly. 

Before they could say anything else, the creaking turned into a deep groan and a roaring geyser of water mingled with birds and kitchen debris gushed from the galley doors. 

Ren watched the rolling disaster surging toward them and decided to declare victory and quit the field of battle. 

"Time to leave." 

Grabbing a cadet under either arm, he sprinted up the corridor till he gained the main passageway. By that point, the flood had spread out and the noise of rushing water and squawking wet birds had diminished considerably. 

“I don’t see Cookie anywhere.” Efrei and Mbino were facing backward toward the galley and neither were willing to assume the battle had been won. 

“Maybe he drowned?” Mbino was hopeful, but his comrade snorted. 

“You wish— he’s too bloody mean to die.” She watched as a garden fowl scampered by, shaking its wet feathers and making unhappy cackling noises. 

Ren placed them back on their feet and looked down from his considerable height. “I will ask this only once: where is Lord Vader’s mask?” 

Mbino nodded at Efrei, who straightened up and answered. 

“It’s back safe where it was in your stateroom, we got the comm just a minute ago.” 

“You stole it only to put it back?” Disbelief leaked through the helmet’s voice filter. 

“Yessir, it’s… uh… a bit complicated, but we only needed to borrow it for a moment.” They had the grace to look embarrassed. 

While their thoughts were not much clearer than they had been the first time Ren had tried to pick through their minds, he was able to gather a few details, including the knowledge they were telling the truth. “Where are you and your comrades to gather?” 

“Forward observation lounge sir, in one of the large meeting rooms toward the back. We were heading to the rendezvous when we, err, intersected.” 

“Return to your fellows. Wait with them. I will join you soon.” Ren released his iron grip on their wrists. “You _will_ be there when I arrive.”

“You have our word, sir,” said Mbino, touching his forehead in salute. “We’ve nowhere else to be, we’re done.” 

“That you most certainly are.” He left them standing amongst the debris and stalked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Houks are big, tough, and not terribly nice most of the time. Cookie is an exemplary example. He's also a tribute to "Cookie" the murloc pirate chef found in World of Warcraft. 
> 
> Korriban is the ancient Sith home world.


	5. Storm Force Ren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of respect, ghosts, and reaping the wind.

His chambers were as softly-lit as he had left them and Ren could feel no living being within.  Standing just inside the entrance, he stretched out with the Force and sensed no trace of the intruder who had entered, not once but twice within the same day. 

Removing his helm, he paced to the room he had reserved for meditation and the resting place of his grandfather’s relics.  That room likewise appeared to be undisturbed, at first glance.  Lord Vader’s helm sat on its plinth, under the cool glow of the light overhead.  The helm was undamaged and bore no sign of having been carried the length of the ship in a thief’s pack.  It was sitting in precisely the same position as it had been before, but all was not exactly the same.  In front of the warped grille of the fire-scorched mask were two collections of small objects.  The first was a set of pale flowers, real ones, four in all, arranged in a little cluster, exhaling a faint perfume.  The second was… Ren touched the white napkin on which it lay, cooling rapidly to room temperature.  His dark brows drew together.  Turning, he exited the chamber, plucked up his own helm, seated it over his head, and left his quarters. 

\---

“Here you are!”  Cap waved Efrei and Mbino into the large room which they had chosen.  The forward observation lounge was empty and available, (in truth, no one wanted to be anywhere near the cadets right now), but Cap had thought it best to get his team out of the common area.  The ten long tables in the room were all pushed back to the walls and nearly all of the chairs were folded and stacked in a corner along with their musical instruments.  Rupart had set up his com and slicing gear on one table, another served to support a stockpile of hydration bottles and a little heap of untouched ration bars.  Another pair of tables provided an impromptu med-bay with the less-damaged cadets seeing to those who had been injured during their wild steeplechase through _Finalizer_.

As the last of his team approached he held out bottles of electrolyte.  “We were starting to worry, you look all-in.”  He pointedly ignored the fact of Mbino’s missing trousers.  “What’s that on your jackets?  Feathers?”

“It’s a long story, Cap, but yes, we had a bit of a rumble at the NCO’s galley.”

“Oh no,” said Okan, joining them at the table.  “Cookie?”

“Cookie.” 

“How bad?” asked Alkar, checking them over for injuries.  “You’re lucky to be in one piece.”

“Um, Cookie tried to attack Lord Ren with his cleavers and well… it was a bit of a mess.”  Mbino rubbed the back of his neck.  “It’s probably us going to be assigned to clean it all up later.”

“Mopping up the mess would mean we’re still alive.”  Senlo grinned at them.  “I’d call that OK.”

“Where is Lord Ren now?” Cap asked, looking at a readout on his datapad.  “There’s so much data flooding the ship’s status board I can’t tell.”

“Not sure, I think he was heading back to his quarters after I told him Doro had returned Lord Vader’s helmet.”

“You _talked_ to him?”

“He outright caught us.  After he blasted Cookie through the galley—”

“Which was the most splendid thing I’ve ever seen,” Mbino added, hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter.

“He told us to return to you and wait for him.”

“Augh!”  Rupart looked horrified.

Cap shrugged.  “It was bound to happen.  I’m more than a little proud our op ran as long as it did.  You’re the best team there’s ever been.”

“So… what happens now?”  Alkar had returned to Doro, checking the bandages on the smaller cadet’s hand.  Doro sat atop the table, eyes closed, back against the wall, uncharacteristically quiet.

“Now we wait,” said Cap.  “Drink something and get your fluids up.  See Viella or Alkar if you’re wounded.”

“We still considered officers of the First Order if we don’t survive to graduate?” Viella asked as she finished applying a quicksplint to Belle’s arm. 

“Well, it’s too late to run off and join the Mandalorians, if that’s what you’re thinkin’.”  Belle stretched his arm and nodded at Alkar.  “Thanks, hope it’s worth the effort.”

“Well then, what’ll we do till Himself shows up?”  Alkar set aside the medpack she had been using.

“If you’re not so damaged you can’t play or sing, let’s have a bit of music, it’ll pass the time.” Cap pointed at the pile of instruments.

Efrei found her bagpipes and carefully removed the second stand of drones with a smile.  “Better to just play the pipes this way – otherwise you’ll get a headache from the subsonics in this room.”

“Know any dirges?” Rupart’s long face was glum.

“Absolutely not!”  Cap shook his head, “Let’s try something a little more uplifting.”

\---

The forward lounge was uncharacteristically empty, not a soul taking a hard-earned break to enjoy the magnificent view of the brilliant sea of stars outside.  The space was not silent, however, music leaked from one of the doors at the back of the large room.  Ren turned his head, sensing as well as hearing the cadets within.  The entire group was busy with either playing an instrument, singing, or both at once.  The discipline had combed their random thoughts into order, occupying their minds with timing, rhythm, meter, and lyrics.

The music comfortably filled the area with sound.  Standing with his hand on the door he could perceive them clearly, gathered toward the back of the room, some standing, some sitting on what must have been tables.  Everyone had done some adjustment to their instruments so they were no longer so very loud.  The two drummers were playing with fingers and knuckles, while the piper had changed her pipes to mute the bone-shaking timbre of the drones.  Even the bugle and trumpet sounded softer, which allowed the voices of those singing to stand on an equal par with the instruments.  The door, while closed, was not locked.  He entered in silence and waited. 

\---

The piece was sung and chanted in a language other than Basic and had some linguistic shifts that made Doro long for the simplicity of Mando’a or even Huttese.  That said, their combined voices and Efrei’s haunting pipes made a fine sound and lifted her somewhere beyond pain.  She sat on the table, one leg tucked under and the other hanging free, eyes closed so she could visualize the music.  The chorus swelled to a crescendo then dropped away to let the instruments carry the music to its end.  She sighed, nodded, and opened her eyes to look at Cap, who had been nominally conducting, and tell him they had sounded fairly decent in her opinion.  Instead she touched his shoulder when she saw the black shadow standing inside the door.

“Company.”

It took but a moment for the cadets to realize they were no longer alone, but to their credit, no one screamed.  They put down their musical instruments instead and gave Ren all their attention.  Those who had been sitting stood. 

For what felt like a very long time, he made no sound or motion, simply taking in the small group of teenagers with both his eyes and the heightened awareness that came with the Force.  The tall blond lad felt like their leader, the others like parts of a well-working team.  Chaotic thoughts notwithstanding, they had managed to do something he would have thought quite impossible.  Most of them he recognized from their earlier sprint-races through the ship, but one face he’d never seen before, a short dark-haired girl with a bristly ponytail and keen pale eyes.  While all of the group nursed bruises and a few had minor fractures, the small girl was in true pain. 

“You.”  He quickly closed the distance to stand in front of her.  “You are the one… who left a gift.” He grasped her left hand to inspect the bandaged limb, blood had begun seeping into the upper layers of the wrapping.  “Why?”

“I was raised among the Morgu’kai on Nar Shadda.  We disagreed about a lotta stuff, but they raised me to have respect for the dead.”  Doro puckered her mouth a little as Ren flexed her remaining fingers.

“Respect includes stealing from them?”

“NO!  That’s the point o’this.”  She twitched her hand in his grip, but did not try to pull free.  “We accepted a challenge from the seniors.  To get it done I volunteered to be th’thief, since I’m the only one had a prayer o’doing that part right.  But I didn’t know the mask was a grave-marker for an ancestor.  The Morgu’kai were really strict about that – you don’t touch the tombs of the ancestors, or mess with their grave-goods.”

“But you did so.”

“Aya, just me.  I had an oath to keep to my team.  But I didn’t let anyone else handle it.  Like I said, the Morgu’kai taught me right about that stuff.  Sometimes you gotta open a tomb or move a grave.  When that happens, you make an offering to the ancestors.  To… give them honor… to help them sleep.” 

“Lord Vader was not your ancestor.”  His tone was more curious than accusatory, although with the vocal distortion caused by his helmet, it was difficult to tell for sure.

Doro shook her head.  “Doesn’t matter.  The ancestors are the ancestors.  If you touch their stuff, you gotta pay proper respect or else.”

Ren uttered a metallic snort.  “What _else_?  Beside my own displeasure?”

The small thief stared at him.  “You kiddin’ me?  I thought you knew about that stuff.  You being pissed is one thing, but being haunted by an angry ghost is forever.”

“What did you do?” Cap grabbed Doro’s hand out of Ren’s grip.  “I thought you got hurt while you were in the overheads.”

“Uh-uh, I cut off my finger myself.” She fished her small service vibroblade from her boot and held it up, then stuck it back into its sheath. “I left it in front of Lord Vader’s mask after I put everything back.  That and four white flowers.”  She put her hands gently together and made a little bow.  “Four for the dead, white for mourning, that’s how it’s done proper.” 

“You cut off your finger to keep away ghosts?!  There’s no such thing!”  Okan was both horrified and offended.  “How stupid can you get?”

“Oh yeah?  Just wait till you kick a tombstone an’ get haunted, dick-nose!”  Doro’s eyes flashed and she sounded more like herself.  “’Sides, I still got me middle fingers, you—”

“Language,” Cap said mildly and Doro subsided, breathing hard. 

“How can you believe in something you cannot see?” Ren indicated the space in which they stood.

“B’cause I _do_ see,” Doro muttered. 

“What?”  Efrei grabbed Doro’s shoulder.  “You can SEE ghosts?”

“All the time,” Doro shrugged.  “Can’t be helped, it’s the Sight.” She flipped out her left hand in a wave, then winced as the movement made it throb.  “Mar’tuk, the ol’Nikto lady who looked after me, was a shaman.  She could see the spirits.  Before she died, she gifted me with the Sight, an’ I’ve had it ever since.”  She rubbed her eyes with the palm of her uninjured hand.  “She didn’t ask me if I wanted it, but she didn’t have an heir of her own people, so I guess she thought it was better to pass it on rather than let it die out with her.” 

“There’s ghosts on _Finalizer_?”  Alkar looked very unhappy at the thought, glancing about at the room as if she expected hordes of unquiet dead to come through at any moment.

Doro shook her head.  “No, well, hardly any.  The ship’s so new, not too many people have died here, and besides, most people don’t linger unless they either don’t know they’re dead, or they got… reasons.  But Nar Shadda was different – it’s been lived-on by so many people over the centuries and a lot of ‘em didn’t die peaceful in their beds, if y’take my meaning.”  Doro squinted at the memories.  “The place was just jammed with ghosts, so many – you’d be breathing ‘em no matter where you went.  I dunno how Mar’tuk stood it.  Awful.”  She sighed deeply.  “ _Finalizer’s_ much better.  Almost peaceful.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”  Cap was frowning with concern.

“Coz it’s mad.”  Doro’s grin was lopsided.  “The psychs would’ve had a fit:  “Ooo she sees invisible people!  She needs _adjusting_.”  T’the hells with that.” 

“Do you see any now, here?” Ren inserted his query smoothly.

Doro took a look around the room, shook her head.  “No, there’s no ghosts here.”  She bared her teeth in a strange smile.  “Not yet.”

“Well said.”  Ren’s masked helm turned to look at Cap.  “ _You_ are their commanding officer.”

“Yes, sir.  I am the class CO.”

“You are responsible for their actions.”  Ren adjusted his stance, somehow seeming to become much taller and far more menacing.

Alkar had been listening to this semantic shift with a frown, now she pushed closer to stand by Cap. 

“Just a moment!  We’re all responsible – we all planned together, we all contributed, every one of us.”  A general murmur of assent rose from the rest of the cadets.

“Indeed.”  Ren turned away and made one long stride back, opening up a small space between himself and the group, then turned to face them, his black robes moving not quite with him, an unfelt wind giving them independent life.  “And are you willing to take an equal share of his punishment?” 

“You gotta ask?”  A strange sensation settled over Doro’s skin, crawling like many invisible insects, penetrating her skull and sinuses with the scent of ozone and the feeling of gathering storm.  She had been on a world with real weather in her early years as a cadet, and that sensation of building energy was unmistakable.

“Guys…” said Cap.  “You can’t just—”

“Shut up.”  Okan growled, then added as an afterthought.  “Sir.”

“I will give you a choice,” said Ren, sounding weirdly calm for someone who was apparently preparing to execute at least one of them.  Lifting his right hand, he plucked Cap from their company and set him down relatively gently on the other side of his body, away from them.  “Stand with him, and share his fate.  Or remain where you are and let him pay the price for your folly.”

“Well, there you go.” Alkar briskly removed her outer uniform jacket, laid it on the table then walked around Ren to join Cap. 

Okan looked back at her jacket as he followed her, giving Ren a wide berth as he did so.  “You too hot?”

“Nah, I don’t want it ruined, that’s all.” 

“Ha-ha-ha!  Kriff, Alkar, you worry about the stupidest stuff!”

“SO gonna haunt yer ass,” Doro muttered under her breath as she stomped around Ren to join them a moment later, her ponytail switching like the tail of an angry panthac. 

In moments the entire group of cadets had gathered around Cap, looking genuinely terrified, but fiercely determined. 

Ren nodded.  “Good.” He spanned his arms out.  “Line up.  Tallest in the middle.”  From his belt he unclipped the long handle of his lightsaber. 

The cadets moved with quick efficiency into the lineup they used when performing choral pieces, with Cap, Okan, Efrei, and Alkar in the middle, and Doro and Gizal on the ends.  Ren eyed their arrangement, swapped Rupart and Viella and Mbino and Belle as if sorting beads.  Finally satisfied with whatever pattern they made, he pulled them around into a loose circle with himself at the center and then pushed them out a bit toward the walls. 

When he was done, Doro felt as if she were thoroughly stuck in place.  She could breathe and blink, but not much else.  Her damaged hand ached, but at least Ren wasn’t actively squashing it in his invisible grip. 

“This will be easier if you close your eyes,” said Ren, igniting his saber.  Everyone twitched at the sound as it crackled like a bad welding torch.  The tip of it spat red-white fire barely clear of the deck.  Doro had seen holos of lightsaber-wielding Jedi, but nothing like the blade Ren held in his hand. 

Doro snorted a laugh.  “Frack that noise!  Parjai o'kyr'am!”  She glared fixedly at him, determined to watch till she could no longer see.  She could somehow perceive the rest of her comrades breathing and her heart swelled at that fraught instant with a feeling she could not define.

“Parjai o’kyr’am.” Cap caught her eyes and smiled briefly.  He was nearly across from her, so she had a clear view of his face most of the time, when it was not obstructed by Ren’s black-draped form. 

First Efrei, then the rest of the group repeated the Mandalorian phrase. 

She drew a deep breath, prepared to say more until death stopped her tongue, but a tall ghost walked through the starboard wall, into the circle of cadets and looked directly at her, ignoring the dark Jedi at the axis of their wheel.  Once he knew he’d caught her eyes, he winked, and placed a finger over his translucent lips.  The angry words jammed up in her throat, she coughed, let them go, and held her peace. 

He’d been a handsome man when he was alive, that ghost, and unlike many she’d seen in her brief span of years, he seemed perfectly comfortable in his current state.  Ren occasionally moved right through him, but that bothered the ghost not at all.  Now he held up a hand, palm out and Doro, while she could hear no actual words, felt the unspoken command. 

 _Be.  Still_. 

The burning fire of anger in her heart guttered and died as if she’d stamped on the flames herself and deep calm welled up in its place.  That utter quiet sprang out from her core and traveled, fast as lightning around the circle of her comrades.  The strain and fear eased from their faces; she was peripherally aware of that as her own racing thoughts simply evaporated.

Ren turned slowly at the center of their circle, made a few minor adjustments to their spacing, then raised his saber as if setting up for a sword kata.  The cadets were all schooled in basic fencing, although the era of fighting with cutlasses was long past, it was still considered a good discipline for young officers to learn to handle live steel.  He made a few slow warm-up passes.  Doro and her fellows, frozen as if in carbonite, could only watch helplessly, but the anticipatory fear that should have accompanied his movements was gone. 

His tempo changed, from slow and deliberate to faster than the eye could see, beyond the glowing red after-trail left by his saber.  One quick cut flicked at Cap’s head then Ren spun and Doro’s vision filled with light so intense it blotted out everything and sent a stab of agony across her face and into her eyes.  She blinked, trying to clear her vision, but thousands of stars speckled everything before her as if she’d been staring at a sun.  She could still hear however, the sizzling rush as Ren swept his saber through the air, turning and slashing at precise intervals: cut, turn, and cut again.  Ten more times she heard the sound of Ren’s saber striking her fellows, the pitch of it changing as it actually hit something instead of moving freely through the air.  Then the weapon powered off and silence descended on the room. 

Doro could not tell if the darkness obscuring her sight was because she had been truly blinded or because she was dying.  Beyond that initial impact, she felt no pain whatsoever.  From the center of their circle, she heard Ren’s voice clearly, fading as if he were moving away. 

“Well done.  The debt is paid.  Keep the honor-scars, you have fairly earned them.”

The last words echoed oddly and Doro watched the floating stars filling her eyes dim into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter this time, and one more to go. Chapter title is a play on "Storm Force Ten" which is a measurement of ocean wind speed using the Beaufort scale, ranging from 1= calm to 5 = fresh breeze and upward. 10 is a "full gale". https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beaufort_scale
> 
> "Storm Force Ten" is also an album by Steeleye Span with wonderful songs including "The Black Freighter" and "The Victory". 
> 
> Parjai o'kyr'am - Mando'a (Mandalorian) for "Victory or Death".


	6. Hoist the Flag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> General Hux goes to snatch his cadets from the jaws of Ren.

Hux ran, or as he liked to think of it, “strode aggressively” through the length of corridor leading to the forward observation lounge.  The large doors irised open on the conspicuously empty space and he made at once for the meeting rooms where the cadet’s com tracers and Lord Ren’s intersected.  He had brought no troopers with him for backup, having made the command decision that they would not have helped and might have proved to make the situation worse.  The com in his ear brought him Captain Phasma’s rather salty opinions on his one-General rescue party, but he’d turned it down low so it would not distract him.

As he reached the closed door of the meeting room, he could hear the distinctive sound of Ren’s lightsaber powering off.  Ren said something which he could not quite hear through the portal, then silence fell.  He knew all twelve cadets were in that room with Ren, but no one was making a sound.  Not a groan, or outcry of any sort. 

_The Void take him, I’m too late!_   His nerves spiked with a potent combination of anger and dread.

Hux stood with his hand on the control panel debating the wisdom of charging inside and upping the body count by one.  He drew in a deep breath and hit the door release. 

What struck him first was the smell, a combination of sharp ozone joined with hints of burned flesh.  The ozone miasma was normal enough for the damage left by Ren’s lightsaber, but the other component was something Hux had never encountered in person.  He fiercely squelched the urge to retch and called his unhappy stomach to heel. 

The cadets lay on the floor, stretched out on their backs, laid down with precise care in a great spoked wheel with their feet toward the center and their heads making up the outer diameter.  At least their heads were all still attached to their shoulders, he noticed in the quick glance he could spare them, but he could see blood and burns on all of them.  The author of the destruction stood in the center of the eldritch circle, hands outstretched as if completing the casting of a dark spell. 

“General.” The softness in Ren’s voice made the skin crawl on Hux’s arms.  “These belong to you?”

Hux weighed his words carefully, not at all sure what might turn Ren’s apparent calm to murderous rage. “They belong to the First Order, and I am their commanding officer.”

“Will you join them, then?” 

Hux suddenly found himself standing inside the circle, unable to move, Ren’s masked face mere inches from his own.  Ren traced a path down Hux’s cheek with one black-gloved finger.  Hux hadn’t known goosebumps could get goosebumps, but he was sure the phenomena was happening under his sleeves. 

“I’m here to get them medical attention, if you left them alive enough to repair.” The words came out clipped and flat. 

“You came alone.”  Ren lifted his head slightly to indicate the open door behind Hux.  “That was… brave of you.”

“I _want_ our cadets back.”  Hux did not try to move or back away, despite Ren being so far into his personal space they were practically embracing.

Ren released him. 

“They are yours, for now.”  He strode away through the still-silent circle of people, stepping between two of the cadets.  “If somewhat worn.”  He sounded as if he were almost-laughing, but surely that was a distortion of his damnable helmet’s filter. With a sweep of black drapery, Ren left the room to Hux and the rest of the occupants.

Once alone, Hux turned slowly, trying to assess the damage done to the cadets, while summoning a medical team via his com link. Every one of them appeared to be unconscious and pale from shock.  They each had been cut in some way across the face by Ren’s lightsaber. The raw wounds wept blood despite having been cauterized.  _That idiotic weapon is obviously so hot, you’d think there would be no blood at all to see._   No one made a sound or motion and Hux began to wonder if Ren had lost control of whatever dark magic he possessed and killed them while trying to mete out what he considered just punishment.  Kneeling by a blond youth, he felt for a pulse and found it in the young man’s neck.  He stirred at Hux’s touch, fingers slowly clenching and unclenching against the deck.

“Don’t move Cadet,” said Hux, placing a hand on his chest to prevent any attempt at standing.  “A med-team is on its way.”

“You sound familiar, sir,” said Cap. “General Hux?”

“You can’t see me?”

“No sir, all I can see are stars.”  Cap lifted a hand, let it fall.  “Lord Ren’s saber is a bit too bright and I uh, didn’t close my eyes in time.”

“Cap!  You all right?”  Doro’s voice came from the other side of the circle. “I can’t see.”

“Don’t move,” Hux repeated.  “Everyone just lie still for now.”

“Roll call,” said Cap, “sound off if you’re awake.” 

“Frack,” said Efrei.

“Seconded,” replied Senlo. 

“Here,” said Alkar, then added, “hey my jacket didn’t get ruined.  So there.”

“Kriffing hells, Alkar!”  Okan started to laugh, then gasped.  “OW!  Dammit!  What in the name of space happened?”

“Lord Ren happened, Cadet.  Try not to laugh, Ren saw fit to slash every one of you across the face with his stupid lightsaber.  The less you use the muscles, the easier it will be to mend the wounds.”

“I dunno, sir, that sword looked pretty cool, at least till I couldn’t see anymore.”  Rupart sounded thoughtful. 

“Aye, that was intense,” said Mbino admiringly. 

“ _Intense_ ,” Hux glared at them, then realized no one could see his unhappy expression.  “Have any of you learned _anything_ from this experience?”

“Don’t get caught,” said Doro at once.

“Ha-ha-ha!” 

“Ouch, FRACK!” The cadets snickered helplessly, caught up in some collective mirth only they could appreciate, alternating between laughing and cursing as the exercise pained their wounds.

Hux ground his knuckles into his eye sockets and decided to ask the medics for a painkiller for his rapidly growing headache.

\---

"Well, what is the damage report on the junior cadets?"  Hux's tone was dry as he looked at Ensign Chogal.  He paced around the ensign's console.  It had been a very long day, but he did not want to concede the field until he was certain everything was under control.  Or at least as much under control as it could ever be with Lord Ren aboard ship.

"Recovering nicely, sir.  Medical reports those most-lightly wounded should be able to return to duty - light duty - within another cycle, while the cadets with broken bones will require another two days to ensure the osteo-repairs are fully cured.  Also, the entire class endured retinal flash-burning, which requires after-care.”

“What?”

“From Lord Ren’s lightsaber, sir.  Evidently everyone insisted on watching even after they’d been warned to close their eyes.  The medic’s report says the initial regeneration process has been performed, but none of the cadets are to perform VR sims or work in overly-bright areas without eye protection for a tenday.  Without these precautions the visual damage may become permanent."  Chogal peered at the report on his holoscreen.  “They also report all the cadets are refusing full scar-repair, claiming Lord Ren demanded they keep them.”

“Rrren.”  Hux exhaled the name in a low growl.  “They aren’t _his_ cadets to command.”

“Yes sir, but, he did make an _impression_ on them.”

Hux sniffed and lifted his chin in distain.  “We left branding and scarification rituals behind some eons ago, along with human sacrifice and blood-offerings to gods real or imagined.”

“If I may speak plainly sir, I don’t think I’d be brave enough to mention such things to Lord Ren.”

Hux smiled thinly.  “That would be my job, ensign, carry on.”

\---

“I’ve got to admit, I didn’t think you could pull it off,” senior cadet Jonzon said as he helped rake up the trash left by the flood at the NCO’s galley.  Droids had patched the damaged pool and restored the zone below to relative dryness, but the work of policing the area had fallen to the cadets.  Teams of juniors and seniors had been assigned to cleanup and restoration duties throughout the ship, a chore the juniors at least tackled willingly. 

“Mmhm.”  Cap picked up something that might have been a large serving spoon, now bent into a corkscrew, and pitched it into the dustbin in a rolling service droid.  Senlo and Rupart worked alongside him.

“Torget had bets running with the Hutt cartel about how long you’d last if you even took the challenge.”

“He was willing to have us all killed to earn some creds?” Cap said, his voice very neutral in tone. 

Jonzon looked surprised.  “Uh, I dunno?  No one thought you’d even try.  He made big money when you did try, then lost it all and more when you succeeded.”  He dumped an armload of sodden stuff into the droid’s receptacle.  “He’s in trouble now, coz he doesn’t have the cash to cover all the bets.” They worked in silence for a time.  “You’re not sore at us, are you?  For the challenge, I mean.”

Cap turned to give Jonzon a cool stare, the right side of his face sporting a long half-healed scar over the cheek.  “Rupart, where is Doro?”

Rupart checked his wrist-mounted datapad.  “In cybernetics right now, getting fitted.” 

“Very good, we need to talk to her, once we’re finished here.”

\---

The mid-ship medical facility was large to the point where infrequent visitors could easily become lost.  Fortunately, Rupart was good at finding his fellow-cadets by pinging their personal com devices, so with his help Cap soon found the cybernetics section.  It was likewise large, and sectioned off into smaller bays where crew who had suffered loss-of-limb mishaps were fitted with cybernetic replacement parts.  It was almost empty of personnel except for some staff and medical droids, but Cap followed the sound of Mandalorian epithets to find the bay where Doro sat with a much-put-upon technician. 

“Cap!”  She jumped down from the treatment table the moment she saw him.

“Now then, take it easy with that hand until you get a good feel for what the cybernetics can do, all right?”

“Yeah, sure, fine.”  She waved her left hand at Cap and Rupart.  “Lookit this!” she snorted.  “They frakkin’ insisted.”

“Nice!  They replaced your finger!”  Rupart looked at the appendage admiringly, touching and flexing it carefully.  “Lovely work,” he said to the technician, who looked pleased at the praise.  “Look how they’ve attached the internal supports all the way back to the wrist – you’ll actually be able to hang onto things properly with it.”

“Yes, if you take the time to do the exercises I’ve put in your datapad, Ensign Doro, you will find excellent sensitivity and range of motion.”  The tech nodded encouragingly at her.

Doro exhaled a sigh.  “Right, I’ll do ‘em, but I swear, I dunno how this works with the ritual – I better not get haunted because it ruined the intent.”  At the tech’s blank stare, she waved her hand.  “Never mind, its fine.”  She looked at Cap.  “You guys done for the day?  Let’s get outta here, I hate the smell of sick bay.”

As they trooped as quickly as they could through the medical facility, Cap spoke quietly.  “You still have some _connections_ on Nar Shaddaa?”

Doro shot him a curious look.  “Aye, along with what family I can claim.” 

“Good, Rupart and I acquired some information of interest today and I think you can help sort it out.”

“Tell me more.”

\---

The cadets were certainly easy to distinguish from their counterparts.  As soon as Hux saw a saber-scarred face in the weeks following the Junior Challenge, even if he could not immediately pull up the name in his memory, he knew at once the cadet was “ _one of those”_ , and therefore a known quantity.  Every one of them had developed certain characteristics he could count on, besides looking as if they were members of an illegal dueling club.  All were unfailingly respectful and willing to assist, even with the most menial of tasks, and all were incredibly resourceful if the tasks assigned required problem-solving skills.  Singularly, they were consistent and tenacious, together, they were a truly impressive team.  Hux often wondered if the effects of their encounter with Ren could be duplicated with subsequent classes of cadets, but he concluded it was not worth the risk of losing an entire class to the whims of a sort-of-Sith lord year after year.  And there was no guarantee Lord Ren would even be around next year to have such an exemplary effect on the cadets. 

_I could but wish_ , Hux thought, contemplating the peacefulness of a life without Ren as co-commander.  Looking at a readout, he spoke to Lieutenant Mitaka. 

“Have they managed to locate cadet Torget?  An AWOL night on Nar Shaddaa to celebrate graduation is bad enough, but to be missing for… seven days, is quite another.” 

“No sir, we managed to trace him to the Red Light district, but at that point he simply disappeared.  We are continuing the search, but the locals aren’t exactly friendly to us, even while they appreciate our credits.”   

“Continue searching via our agents there, he can’t have just vanished into thin air.”

“Aye, sir.”

\---

“They’re jealous, that’s what I’m hearing,” said Senlo, scowling over a complex astrogation problem.  He sat in the cadet’s dormitory wardroom.  Most were actually studying, but Rupart was sketching busily at something on his datapad. 

“Who’s jealous?”  Alkar raised her head from the image of the textbook she was reading. 

“The seniors.  I take hyperdrive engineering with some of them and they’re a chatty group, now that Torget is gone.  He was a real dead anchor for them.”

“Well, now he’s a carbonite doorstop in the back corporate offices at the Starlight Lounge.”  Doro’s mouth curved in a slow smile and she sipped at her glass of blue milk to hide it. 

“Most real work he’s ever done,” said Cap with a matching smile. 

“Jealous of what?  They’re seniors, we’re juniors, end of story.”  Alkar pursued her original thread of thought.

Senlo pointed at his face.  “They’re jealous of these.”

“Our scars?”  Alkar rubbed a careful hand over her own, which neatly bisected her right cheek and wandered down into her neck.

“Yeah, they say it makes us look like space pirates.”

Doro sprayed her mouthful of blue milk across her desk as she burst out laughing.  “Ha-ha!  Kriffing hells!”  She laughed so hard tears ran down her cheeks.  “Jealous… hoo-hoo.”  She hiccuped, her laughter finally spent.  “They have no idea.”

“Great minds think alike,” said Rupart.  “Now that we’ve completed the Challenge, we can design our class flag.  Look at this.”  He switched his holoscreen to large display mode and turned it so his comrades could get a full view. 

“It’s the Jolly Roger!”  Alkar’s eyes were wide. 

“With our motto underneath, Parjai o’kyr'am – Victory or Death.”  Cap was nodding.  “I like it.”

“It fits,” added Efrei.  She looked at Doro.  “What do you say?”

“Hoist the flag!”  Doro mimed brandishing a cutlass.  “Onward to pillage!”

\---

On the bridge of the Finalizer, General Hux rubbed at a sudden surge of goosebumps on his forearms.  A quick glance around the large space reassured him that Kylo Ren was nowhere in sight.  _Must be the chill of deep space_ , he thought, _I’ll have to get environmental engineering to check the air handlers_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for this tale - it takes place in the same arc of stories as _Glass_ and _Sea of Stars_. Chronologically this story comes first.

**Author's Note:**

> The character of Doro was inspired by the manga _Dororo_ by Osamu Tezuka about a demon-slaying young samurai and his young sidekick, the thief Dororo. Read it if you can, it's epic.


End file.
